


The Care and Keeping of Pine Tree

by a_bowl_of_peaches



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, BDSM, Bathing, Bill is not happy, Dipper is underfed overworked and sleep deprived, Fluffy, Hand Feeding, Human Bill Cipher, Hurt/Comfort, I lied about keeping Bill's description minimal, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Master/Pet, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Secret Relationship, Self-Indulgent, So much comfort, Stress, consider it incomplete instead, hopefully i did it right, it's a lot heavier than i first planned, mentioned in passing - Freeform, supposed to be undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_bowl_of_peaches/pseuds/a_bowl_of_peaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper is juggling college, work, family, friends, and a relationship with an omnipotent dream demon boyfriend. He hasn't slept in a few days and is subsisting mainly on coffee and sheer willpower.<br/>If you asked him, he's got a good handle on things.</p><p>Bill thinks otherwise (and that there has been a significant lack of attention) and decides he needs to show his Pine Tree how to take care of himself.<br/>Dipper is happy to give into his control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 100% self-indulgent fluff born from a stressful week and staying awake until 2am. Hopefully, it's not too horrific.

* * *

         “Your bed is made.”

 

         Eighteen-year-old Dipper Pines jerked at the unexpected voice, banging his knee on the underside of his desk. Hissing out a breath, he turned in his desk chair, rubbing the pain away.

 

         “Do you have to scare me like that, Bill?” he demanded. Bill pursed his lips, ignoring him, leaning his weight forward on his cane. His eyes, one metallic gold, the other a vivid blue, peered out from under neatly styled black and blonde hair. Bill always looked styled, actually: his shoes were polished, his pants pressed, each button done on his waist coat and jacket, and his black bowtie ruler straight. Even his dark skin had an airbrushed quality to it. And at six and a half feet tall, muscled like some sort of runner, he could have easily passed for a model.

 

         “Your bed, Pine Tree.” The voice blurred the illusion, but after almost six years with the dream demon in various relationships (enemy, reluctant teammate, student, pet, and lover to name a few), Dipper had gotten used to it and its wide range of octaves. Bill rapped the end of his cane on the floor, hard and sharp, before leveling it at the human, shocking him out of his silent admiration. “It’s made.”

 

         Dipper always felt scruffy next to Bill. Out of place even, like he didn’t belong in the same room as him, let alone next to him. He was only five foot nine and had little hopes of growing any taller. He had gained just enough definition to avoid being called scrawny and noddle-y but no more. His hair was a mess of curls, he was covered in freckles and scars, his birthmark was still a subject of ridicule and downright creepy fascination, and he was still sweaty and awkward.

 

         A glance down at his feet revealed a new hole in his ratty jeans and an untied shoe.

 

         The observation made him feel woefully inadequate and altogether unnecessary.

 

         “So?” he retorted, spinning back to face his work. He didn’t have time to argue with his partner over the state of his room. He had essays to write, ranging from European folklore to the anatomy of the human body. Then there was his lab report, which had yet to reach completion, and he was supposed to give a presentation in his gender studies class, and then there was _Calculus_ of all things, and why had he decided to overload in his freshman year again?

 

         ‘ _Because Grunkle Ford did and he said it was easy and you wanted to impress him,’_ a traitorous little voice cooed. He clicked his pen in angry staccato beats. _‘You could always give up now but what a shame that (you) would be…”_ The voice trailed off. The taste of ink filled his mouth before he even realized he had started chewing on his writing utensil.

 

         “Why is it made?” Bill grumbled, dragging Dipper’s attention back to him. “Shooting Star makes her own, Fez is a slob, Six is always in his lab, Question Mark and Red never come into your room without you, so _who_ made the bed?”

 

         “I did,” Dipper answered shortly, tossing the pen in the garbage. Bill barked a laugh. The loud noise grated between the teen’s eyes, turning the dull pressure there into a full-blown headache.

 

         “Like once every other week, kid. It never stays made for long. And the last time I remember it being neat was the morning after the last full moon. You remember? Couple days ago, when you let me-”

 

         “Yes, yes, yes I remember!” Dipper insisted, face burning at the memory of rope and his legs thrown over dark shoulders and a too-long tongue. “Both that night and making the bed. I don’t need a reminder.”

 

         “Then why is it still made?” The mirth has been replaced with ice, the kind of ice that creeps over surfaces in long tendrils, swirling and freezing into jagged crystals, the kind that burns when touched. The change was sudden, forcing a shiver out of Dipper. He shook it away, lifting his book closer to his face. He wasn’t hiding, nope. Bio was just _super_ fascinating right now.

 

         “Because I haven’t messed it up,” he answered. There was no response from Bill. He risked a glance over his shoulder and started when he found himself face to face with his demon partner, whose gold eye was starting to look suspiciously amber around the edges.

 

         “Why?” Dipper bit the inside of his lip, eyes drifting to the smattering of tiny freckles at Bill’s cheekbone. They were so light they could easily be missed, and they always drew the teen’s gaze when he didn’t want to meet his partner’s stare. “Are you considering lying to me, Pine Tree?” the demon hissed, holding Dipper’s chin. “And going back on our agreement?”

 

         Ah, yes. One of their many agreements: Bill wouldn’t lie to Dipper so long as Dipper didn’t lie to Bill. So far, it had worked out, but Dipper had gotten rather adept at manipulating the truth, just as his demon did. Watching Bill’s face flash between something like irritation and amusement when he did made for great entertainment.

 

         “No, I’m not,” Dipper snapped, twisting his head free. “The bed is made because I haven’t messed it up. Now, leave me alone. I have homework to do.”

 

         “You’re avoiding the question.” Bill dragged his chair back from his desk, ignoring the resulting protests and the yelp when he tipped it back. Dipper felt his breath catch at the demon’s glare, part breathtaking and part terrifying.

 

         “I…” The headache crescendoed, throbbing behind his eyes like a thunderstorm. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he griped, trying to rub the pain away.

 

         “Perhaps you’ve been warming someone else’s sheets, hmm?” His partner’s teeth gleamed behind his lips, too white and sharper than they should have been.

 

         _“What?”_ Dipper shrieked, throwing his weight forward. He scrambled out of his chair, facing his partner, who was strutting away from him. “ _What?”_

 

         “You aren’t denying it,” Bill sneered, flopping onto the bed. He folded his arms behind his head. “I guess I should have seen it coming. You humans,” his eyes narrowed, “such mercurial beings, so quick to throw things away. And how you complain when they aren’t there to pick up when you realize your mistake.” The demon tipped his top hat over eyes, clearly done with the conversation. “And I thought you would be different.”

 

         “You really think…” Dipper stared at his partner, jaw working. He was stuck somewhere between offended and ashamed and plain angry. His overworked mind throbbed with pain, his endless thoughts tying themselves into knots as they dissected this new problem. He didn’t know what to feel exactly, so he went for the simplest emotion: anger. He let it burn down his nerves, sparking at his fingertips. His chest tightened, the air thick and cold against his overheated skin. A sharp pain shot through his hands, his nails biting into his palms.

 

         “You really think I would _cheat_ on you?” he screeched. Bill stiffened, tipping his hat back up with a thumb. “I’m not cheating on you, you jealous _jackass!”_ He was shouting but no one else was home so who cared? He saw the other’s eyes widen and ignored the pleasure of knowing he had shocked the omnipotent demon. “I haven’t been sleeping in someone else’s bed, and I would _never_ sleep in someone else’s bed! In fact, I haven’t been sleeping _at all!_ ” Blue and gold eyes stared at him, nonplussed.

 

         “How could you even think that?” he snarled. He was jittery and the world was tilting oddly, his feet carrying him forward then back, then shuffling left and forward and back again in little half-steps. “I… You’re my…” He shook his pounding head and planted his feet on the throw rug. “You’re, like, everything to me, Bill. It scares me how much I _need_ you sometimes. And you think I would go and _throw that away!?”_ He dragged his hands over his face, stomping in a circle. He was so _mad._ He kicked the wall, the dull thud dying in the still air of the room.

 

         “I haven’t been sleeping because I haven’t been home,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “And when I am home, I’m working the gift shop. If I’m not home or in the library, it’s because the gnomes stole another kid from town. Or Mabel really needs help with finding something in the forest. Or the Hide-Behind is lost and I need to lead it back home. And it’s not like keeping our relationship a secret from everyone is doing me any favors, _especially_ when you like to mark me up in the most obvious places you can think of.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, forcing small tears into his eyelashes.

 

         “Pine Tree.” The demon’s tone was odd, even and borderline frantic all at once. It unnerved him, because Bill never panicked. Well, he did, like when Mabel drank the last Pitt Cola or they were out of booze for margaritas or he was missing his top hat. He didn’t panic over important things. “Pine Tree, come here.” But he was panicking now, so this wasn’t important.

 

         The realization was like a brick thrown through a window.

 

         As quickly as it had come, Dipper’s wild rage vanished, snuffed like a candle. It left him feeling hollow, burned out like a match, charred and crumbling. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing his face one last time and wincing at the scratch of stubble.

 

         “Why do you even care?” he spat, half-heartedly. “You keep saying how pathetic and fickle and inferior humans are. Why do you care about the doings of a _lesser being?”_

 

         “Pine Tree, please, just come here,” Bill insisted, sitting up and holding out a hand. “Kid, you’re shaking something awful. Just come here before you keel over.”

 

         Dipper eyed him, biting at his chapped lips. The tears clinging to his eyelashes thickened, blurring the demon into a spot of shining gold and void black among worn brown walls and the patchy colors of his quilt.

 

         His sight cleared for a brief second, just enough for him to see his partner’s concerned face, before clouding again as more tears pushed forward.

 

         His shaking legs gave way, knees hitting the edge of the mattress. Bill snatched him around the waist and dragged him onto the bed, straight into his lap. The position was awkward, his front pressed more to his partner’s stomach and his knees against the other’s side. But there were familiar arms around him and lips peppering little butterfly kisses across his birthmark, unnaturally warm hands sliding over his aching body.

 

         “I’m okay, I’m okay,” Dipper chanted. For whose sake, he didn’t know. Bill was rocking them back and forth, palm cupping the back of his hat. “I’m okay, I’m… _okay.”_ He sucked in a breath and it was thin, wheezing in and then out, rushing. He had to force his lungs to work: inhale, exhale, inhale exhale, inhaleexhale _inhaleexhale_.

 

         “Pine Tree, Pine Tree, shh.” Bill tried to get him to look up, but he twisted away. “You’re having an anxiety attack. You need catch your breath.” Dipper choked, holding his breath for a few seconds, easing his hyperventilation to heaving gulps. It was the most he could do. “I’m here, Pine Tree, I’m here.”

 

         “I’m…” His voice wavered and broke like he was twelve again. “I-I’m…” He didn’t know what he was anymore. There were too many things to consider; he was overwhelmed and overworked by his own hand, and that lead to self-loathing and the feeling of needing to be better, because he wanted to do this and he needed to be stronger but he was weak and tired and needed to prove himself… and… and….

 

         “Oh, Pine Tree,” Bill sighed, removing his hat and setting it on the pillow. He tried to run his fingers through the brunet’s curls, only for them to get caught on knots. Dipper cringed, both at the pain and the demon’s despondent tone.

 

         And he was a really shitty boyfriend, too.

 

         The tears started then, unbidden and unexpected. He squirmed an arm free from around Bill and wiped them away, sniffling into his sleeve, muffling hiccups into the fabric.

 

         He was a shitty boyfriend, a shitty student, a shitty brother and nephew and friend, a shitty _person_.

 

         A couple sobs tore themselves free from his throat, and he started a new mantra between them.

 

         “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

 

         Bill hushed him again, adjusting his grip so Dipper could hide against his shoulder, his fingers gripping at the demon’s suit. The brunet let out a tiny sigh, wiping his nose so he wouldn’t ruin the clothing. He sobbing eased into shaky panting, punctured by the occasional hiccup. He closed his raw eyes against the dull light of his lamp, breathing in Bill’s scent until he stopped gasping.

 

         “You have nothing to be sorry for, kid. Just focusing on breathing now, that’s all you need to think about,” Bill was coaxing. “Listen to my voice: You’re safe. You’re safe. I have you, Pine Tree, and I won’t let go. Just rest for a while.”

 

         Dipper wanted to rest, wanted to rest _so badly._ But with almost an entire pot of strong coffee on an empty stomach, save for the odd granola bar, the caffeine would keep him going for at least another two, if not three hours.

 

         He nearly groaned at the thought, squeezing Bill tighter. He felt like a wrung out rag, limp and frayed and dirty. All he wanted was a nap, a quick one, just so he could gather himself and piece his mask of calm back together. He would put it on and pretend like nothing had happened, nothing it all, and he would continue to work, diligent and determined, until he collapsed all over again.

 

         He had done it before and he could do it again.

 

         “No, Pine Tree, that will not do.” He twitched a little when Bill addressed him, but didn’t move from his partner’s arms. He didn’t even care that the dream demon had read his mind.

 

         “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m just, I’m so…” More tears skated down his wet cheeks. “I’m sorry.” He clung to his partner, tucking his legs up, all but hiding in Bill’s chest.

 

         “Shh,” the dream demon hushed, stroking down his back. “It’s all right, Pine Tree. You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m sorry for accusing you like that. You are _far_ from inferior; you’re _nothing_ like your kind.” Dipper listened to him sigh, sniffling. “I haven’t seen you in days, haven’t heard you say more than a few words to anyone, let alone me. I couldn’t help but think…” Bill looked away. “You’ve mentioned wanting a partner with a better grasp on reality and emotions before.”

 

         Dipper felt like he had been blasted by the size-altering crystals and shrunk to the size of a pea. Summoning his dwindling energy reserves, he pushed himself upright and wrapped his arms around Bill’s shoulders.

 

         “No one could ever replace you,” he whispered, turning his head to kiss his partner’s cheek. “No one. You’re the only one I want, now and for the rest of my life. You’re my boyfriend, my mentor, and my Master.” He leaned back a little, catching Bill’s eyes with his own. “I love you.”

 

         The dream demon didn’t reply, but he folded Dipper back into his arms and purred into his hair. The teen managed a weak smile and nuzzled deeper into his grip, enjoying the closeness. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d had the simple enjoyment of cuddling with his partner, sharing warmth and feeling him breathe, the thump of his heart just inches away.

 

         “Thank you, Pine Tree.” Dipper accepted the offered kiss. “I needed to hear that. Though now I see that I was blind and that wasn’t the problem at all.” The demon shook his head. “You really need to tell me when things are bothering you, kid. Especially when you’re in over your head.”

 

         “I’m not-” Dipper was interrupted by a finger at his mouth, followed by soft lips. He normally didn’t tolerate being silenced with kisses; tonight, however, was an exception. He relished in the gentle slide of his partner’s tongue against his own, the intimacy soothing. The languid make-out session continued for several more minutes, slow and tender. When they pulled away, Dipper’s smile was much more genuine.

 

         “We’re going to play a little game, you and I, Pine Tree,” Bill murmured, speaking against his temple. Dipper hummed, blinking to show he was listening. “I’m going to ask you some questions and tell you to do some things. You’re only allowed to speak if I ask you something and you must be completely truthful. You must do everything I say, exactly as I say it. Does that sound all right with you?” Dipper gave tiny nod. A soft kiss was pressed to his brow. “We’ll stop when we’re both in bed and I take my gloves off. Do you remember our safe words?” The teen nodded again. “Tell me what they are.”

 

         “Green is good. Yellow is slow down. Red is stop,” he recited. “Yours are pyramid for good, square for slow down, and five-point for stop.”

 

         “Good boy.” He hummed again when a kiss was placed in the “ladle” of his birthmark, fingers flexing on his partner’s arm. This was good, this was _way_ good. “Now, shall we begin, pet?”

 

         Another shiver, this one pleasant and warm like a candle flame, worked its way across his skin. He nestled closer to Bill, glancing up at him through his eyelashes.

 

         “Yes, Master Cipher.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not entirely sure what I'm doing, but hey, here's chapter two. I'm still having fun at least.

* * *

 

         Bill smiled against Dipper’s pale skin before pulling away, adopting a neutral expression. The brunet watched from the demon’s lap, red-rimmed eyes half-lidded, expression floating somewhere between serene attentiveness, gratitude, and quiet .

 

         “Now, when did you sleep in this bed last?”

 

         “Five days ago,” Dipper answered dutifully.

 

         “When did you last get a full night’s rest?”

 

         “Three days ago?” he offered, uncertain. “Maybe four; probably closer to four. I’ve been napping in the library.” Silence for a few moments.

 

         “Do you know what day it is, pet?”

 

         “…Wednesday?” he guessed. The previous week and its weekend had flowed into this one like a flood, the currents dragging him along, pulling him under. The arms around him tightened, Bill’s hot breath rustling through his hair as the demon curled around him.

 

         “It’s Friday, pet. Evening.”

 

         Dipper winced and glanced away. Well, at least it was the weekend. He’d have plenty of time to finish all his work and hopefully catch more than a handful of hours of sleep. Maybe more than vending machine fodder too….

 

         His stomach gurgled its approval. Bill jerked back in surprise, and Dipper resisted the urge to roll off the bed in a fit of mortification.

 

         “Do I even _want_ to know when you last had a real meal?” His master’s voice was seething and he flinched from the rage, ducking his head. Immediately, there were hands on him, prying him out of his defensive curl, cupping his face. “No, no, pet, there’s no need to fear me. I’m not angry at you.” Bill kissed him firmly before drawing back. Dipper smiled weakly, still not convinced but pacified for the moment.

 

         “I’ve been eating but,” he shook his head, “but nothing all that great. And not that often.”

 

         “Something light to eat then. Tea is a must, but none of your precious caffeine, pet. You’ve had far too much already,” Bill mused, stroking his hair. “And then I’m going to get you ready for bed. How does a nice bath sound, hmm?” the demon crooned. “Maybe something hot and sweet to help you sleep, too?”

 

         “I’m not a child,” Dipper grumbled, momentarily forgetting his role. “I can take care of myself.” The words weren’t even completely out of his mouth before he realized how stupid they sounded. He slapped a palm to his forehead, swallowing a groan.

 

         “Of course you can, pet.” Bill observed, dripping sarcasm. He grew serious a moment later, eyes glowing. “Let us not forget who you’re speaking to. While I appreciate your clever mind and resiliency, pet, it does tend to get in the way of things.” He leaned down so they were forehead to forehead. “Let me think for you. Let your thoughts rest.” His voice dropped, eerie and deep, vibrating in the human’s bones. “Give me complete control.”

 

         “Yes, Master. I am yours to command,” he replied, perhaps a touch more earnest than he should have been. He went slack in the demon’s arms, tipping his head back to bare his throat. Bill ran his lips along his pulse point, fangs ghosting over the thin skin, hunting down along his jugular until they found his collar, where they immediate latched on. The demon’s tongue joined in on marking him, easing the sting of the suckled flesh. “I-I’m sorry for talking back,” he added, gasping when the demon pulled away.

 

         “You’re forgiven, pet, but only because you’re exhausted.” His partner’s voice shifted back to normal. “Let’s get you taken care of.”

 

         Dipper nodded, levering himself up and out of his partner’s lap. He swung his legs over the mattress, preparing himself to stand when a hand caught his elbow.

 

         “Slowly, pet,” Bill cautioned. “I don’t want you collapsing again. Let me help you.” The brunet nodded, cheeks warming at his partner’s concern; he was supposed to worry about others, not the other way around. Even so, the demon’s worry was flattering. It made him feel small in a delicious way, like he was worth protecting, worth being cherished.

 

         Dipper waited until Bill rounded the bed, stopping in front of him and offering his hands for support, cane hooked over his arm. He stood carefully, going lightheaded when the pounding behind his skull returned with stabbing force. Hands framed his head, fingers pressing on his temples. The pain flared before vanishing.

 

         “Thank you, Master,” he whispered, tilting his head to kiss a gloved palm.

 

         “Of course, pet.” An arm looped around his waist, palm slipping under his shirt. The door opened at the prompting of a flicked wrist. The floorboards creaked under their feet, followed by the groaning of the stairs. Dipper allowed himself to be led to the kitchen, guided by gentle pressure on the small of his back.

 

         Bill flicked the light switch on, filling the room with light. The shelves above the counter were full of canned beef and beans, the fridge had a few flower and kitten-shaped magnets and unnamable stains. The table was still pushed near the window, surface permanently embedded with edible glitter and sticky from years of maple syrup races.

 

         “I’m going to make tea,” Bill told him. “Look in the pantry and fridge and tell me what you’d like.” Dipper nodded, pretending he didn’t miss the warmth of the demon’s hand on his skin.

 

         While Bill put a kettle on to boil, the brunet moved to the pantry, tucked away by the fridge. Swatting at the flies that buzzed their way to freedom when he opened the door, he turned on the light.

 

         “Ok let’s see…” Dipper pushed a few dusty cans out of the way, frowning at the shelves. “Some canned beans. Canned chicken, corn, carrots… Canned- what the heck, canned _breakfast?”_ He pulled a face and moved on. “Enough sprinkles to put Mabel in a coma… Moldy bread, yuck, sardines, mayo, a jam jar filled with ants.” He chucked it into the trash with a shudder. “The only thing I’d say is safe to eat is the honey.” He set the plastic bear container on the counter with an irritated noise, rubbing his face. “I’ll have to go shopping for real food this weekend. I should make a-”

 

         A hand caught his chin, directing his gaze upward, into half-lidded eyes. Bill stared at him, lips pressed flat, irises vivid, radiating vague displeasure. Dipper shut his mouth so hard his teeth clacked.

 

         “Now, now, pet, what did I say about thinking?” he hummed.

 

         “To not, Master,” Dipper answered. Bill’s blue eye glowed, throbs of pleasure working through his body. The demon was messing with his endorphins again (not that he was complaining). “To let you think for me, Master.”

 

         “Good boy.” The magical pressure around the pleasure center of his brain tightened before releasing. The demon nodded to the fridge, gaze never shifting. “Look there for something substantial.” He turned away, clasping his hands behind his back. “The drudgery can wait until you are well fed and well rested, pet.”

 

         “S-Sorry,” Dipper stuttered. Bill let out a short hum, opening the cupboard and pulling out the brunet’s favorite mug.

 

         “Find something to eat, pet. You’ll feel better.”

 

         “Yes, Master,” he replied meekly.

 

         The fridge yielded fewer results than the pantry, this time because it was mostly empty instead of being filled with expired goods. There was a stack of Tupperware, full of questionable leftovers, and a “cake” that was mostly frosting, sprinkles, what looked like sugar cubes. A jar full of eyes watched his progress from next to a glass container of… something fleshy, suspended in what might have been formaldehyde.

 

         They really needed to get Ford a bigger cooler for the lab.

 

         A snap drew his attention. He glanced up to see Bill plucking an amber bottle from the air, removing the lid by hand. The rustling sound of dried herbs accompanied the motion, an earthy smell wafting through the kitchen.

 

         “Find something, pet?” Dipper jolted and shook his head, ducking back into the fridge. Any cursory glance and- Oh.

 

         He blinked at the collection of fruit hiding behind the eggs and pitcher of Mabel Juice. Mabel had said something about going to a farmer’s market with Candy and Grenda, just to pick up a few things. She wouldn’t mind if he ate some of what she brought home.

 

         He plucked an apple, a peach, and a container of cherries from the otherwise barren shelves, cradling them to his chest. A reflexive glance back had him mentally adding milk, orange juice, syrup, and vegetables to the grocery list. Deli meats too, he decided, wrinkling his nose at the package of greenish turkey and spotted bologna. Then he realized what he was doing and shook his head.

 

         _“C’mon,”_ he scolded himself. _“Bill is doing this for you. You need to get into the right mindset so you can enjoy actually it.”_ He glanced at his reflection in the window, taking a steadying breath. _“You’re a pet right now. Not an overworked employee, not a frazzled college kid, not a mystery hunter. You’re Bill Cipher’s pet. You don’t have to be anyone else right now.”_

         Hands fell to his hips, thumbs rubbing circles into his back. Hot lips pressed to his neck, leaving another mark. He tilted his head to the side, closing his eyes. Bill purred.

 

         “What have you got there, pet?” Dipper glanced down at his spoils, setting them on the counter for inspection. Bill shifted slightly, smirking against his neck before lifting his head. “Feeling sinful, are we, pet?” He picked up the apple, turning it in his fingers before setting it down. “And this.” The peach was next, brushing against the demon’s dark lips. “Did you know some used the peach to ward off evil spirits? I can’t imagine why, especially when it’s so soft and sweet. Reminds me of something else I like devouring.” A low noise escaped Dipper’s mouth at the whispered admission, silenced when he bit his lip. “And these!” Bill eyed the cherries, his chuckles working from his body to the brunet’s in a delightful tremor. “Nothing needs to be said about them.” A gentle kiss was pressed to his jaw. “Well done, pet. Leave them here; I’ll take care of them.”

 

         Dipper nodded, letting himself be led to the table. Bill pulled out his chair for him, pushing it back in before returning to the counter. The brunet watched him stir a generous amount of honey into his steaming cup before returning and handing it to him.

 

         “Tell me what you think.” He nodded, curling his fingers around the ceramic and taking an experimental sniff.

 

         Lemon balm, chamomile, lavender: perfect for anxiety, restlessness, and aiding in relaxation. Exactly what he needed.

 

         Dipper inhaled the steam again, enjoying the heat against his face and the scent of the herbs. The mug felt good in his chilled hands, and he cupped it gratefully, taking a long sip. The tea worked its magic through his system, untying various knots of tensions, settling in his empty stomach without upsetting it. He smiled at the sweet tang of honey accompanying the herbs, licking his lips.

 

         “It’s good, Master,” he murmured.

 

         “Excellent. You drink that, pet,” Bill kissed his temple, “And I’ll take care of the rest.”

 

         “Thank you, Master,” he whispered into the cup, turning sideways to watch the demon work.

 

         Bill could easily have snapped his fingers and been done with the snack, but instead, he cut the apple, sliced the peach, and pit the cherries, all with quiet intensity. He hummed as he worked, something upbeat and catchy. Dipper was trying to figure out just what it was when his partner returned, the fruit tossed into a bowl. This time, he snapped his fingers, the rush of magic swirling against Dipper’s skin as he was lifted a foot or so from his chair. He started, clutching at his tea, only to drop back down a moment later, this time into Bill’s lap.

 

         “Since you can’t be trusted to feed yourself properly, I’m going to do it for you,” the demon explained. He picked up a piece of apple, the red skin sinful against his black gloves. “Open up, pet.” Dipper parted his lips obediently, accepting the fruit. He chewed, swallowed, and opened his mouth for more. Bill smiled and brought the spear closer, nuzzling just in front of his ear while he ate another morsel.

 

         The entire apple, the peach, and the cherries disappeared in this manner, each one carefully fed to him by his master via hand in between sips of tea. The last cherry however… The demon held between his too-white teeth, smirking before he swooped down to kiss the brunet, pushing it into his mouth.

 

         Maybe it was Dipper’s caffeine-addled, sleep-deprived brain, but it had tasted sweeter than the others.

 

         “Finish your tea, pet,” Bill murmured, wrapping his arms around him and playing with the curls at the base of his neck. “Then you’re going to wash up.”

 

         “Yes, Master,” Dipper agreed, leaning into the demon. He sipped his cooling tea until he emptied the cup, reveling in affection being lavished on him. He could have fallen asleep right there, belly full of fresh fruit and soothing tea, cradled in his master’s arms. But the dirty cling of his clothes to his unwashed skin was starting to itch, and he still had a jittery caffeine haze to work off. So, when Bill ordered him to stand, he did, slipping of the demon’s lap.

 

         They returned to the upper levels of the Shack and made their way to the bathroom. Dipper locked the door behind them out of habit, even though they were the only two in the house. The brunet was jolted when he was tugged back by his vest, only to have the article removed and thrown into the hamper.

 

         “Arms up,” Bill ordered once the teen turned to face him. Dipper lifted them obediently, closing his eyes when his shirt was drawn over his head. The threads sticking out of his collar tickled his nose, teasing a sneeze out of him. He sniffled, peeking up through his bangs. The demon, usually so quick to coo at the kitten-like sound, was inspecting his shirt, frowning at the thoroughly chewed collar. It too was tossed away, landing in the trash. The brunet didn’t protest, more focused on the fingers unbuckling his belt and popping the button on his jeans.

 

         “Hold onto me, pet,” Bill murmured. Dipper did so, enjoying the feel of his partner’s well-made suit against his skin as the demon hooked his jeans and boxers with his thumbs and yanked them down. The fabric pooled at his feet, leaving him bare.

 

         “There’s my pretty pet,” Bill grinned, grasping his hips and lifting him onto the sink counter. Dipper blushed at the compliment, picking at his blunt nails. He had long ago learned not to cover himself in front of his master, though the urge lingered.

 

         Thankfully (or maybe regretfully), Bill stepped away, turning on the shower. The pattering of water against the porcelain was soothing, a sort of man made rain. Dipper let the sound lull him into a haze, eyes falling halfway shut. A low snap had them fluttering open again, and then snapping wide.

 

         Bill was naked. And the only thing better than a fully dressed, dapper Bill was a naked one.

 

         His partner stretched, arms over his head, up on his toes. The involuntary groan he gave twisted Dipper’s insides. He wanted to capture the noise, press it somewhere to his center and listen to it when the summer air all but steamed and clung to his skin and the stars winked through a murky film of clouds.

 

         The demon was somewhere between beautiful and handsome, with his thick eyelashes and sharp cheekbones, the way his hands were long-fingered and slender. The definition of his collarbones and hips was delicate, like something from a finely carved statue, but the muscle between the two points rippled and made Dipper think of a cobra, long and sinuous. Deadly. Gorgeous.

 

         Honestly, though, a floating triangle had no right to be so attractive in a human form. No right!

 

         But here he was and somehow, Dipper had managed to convince this omnipotent being of pure energy to be his.

 

         Bill strode back to him, nudging his knees apart to stand between them, hands falling to brace themselves on either side of his hips. The brunet cooed when the demon nuzzled him, pressing their chests together, their bare skin sparking blue. The thrum of his partner’s magic and beat of his heart melted with his own, a sort of intangible exchange of energy they often indulged in.

 

         Bill grinned, an invitation edged with fangs.

 

         “Kiss me.”

 

         Dipper almost tumbled off the counter in his eagerness to comply. He fit his arms around his master’s shoulders, running his lips over his jaw, his chin, up to his lips. One of the demon’s hands traced his spine, stroking up from the base and down from his neck, encouraging him to kiss deeper, to slip his tongue into Bill’s mouth. The cool counter became cold, a flush creeping across his skin. When they parted, he was panting, a faint taste of blood on his tongue where he had licked at one of his partner’s canines with too much enthusiasm. When he dove back in, the demon caught his chin, holding him still, taking back control. The kiss was quieter, unhurried, easing the brunet down from his momentary rush.

 

         “That’s enough, pet,” Bill whispered, pulling away. “I don’t want you getting too out of breath.” Hands slipped under Dipper’s thighs, lifting him from the counter; the teen wrapped them around his partner’s waist out of habit. “Time to get you cleaned up.”

 

         The position was a familiar one: Bill often liked to have him against walls or tree trunks. But this was… intimate in a different way. Sensuous but not sensual. Dipper was naked, every inch of him tucked against his equally naked partner, and there was no carnal response in either of them. In fact, the brunet found himself cozy in a way no blanket or fireplace could ever hope to compete with, bundled in a demon’s arms.

 

         He was set down in the now steaming shower, his master’s hand sliding up his thigh to his waist while he closed the plastic curtain with the other. The water was almost too hot, Dipper’s pale skin flushing red, but after a few moments of the stream striking his back and the intense heat working its way into his sore muscles, he relaxed. He leaned against Bill, supported by the arm around his waist. He blinked when something syrupy landed in his hair, glancing over his shoulder to see Bill putting away a shampoo bottle.

 

         The demon plucked at his tangled hair with a feather light touch until the knots unraveled, the soap working through them. He buried his fingers in the brunet’s chestnut curls, working them in firm circles, washing away a week’s worth of grease and grime. Dipper’s eyes nearly rolled, his head tipping back as the demon scratched at his scalp with gentle claws. The shampoo was then rinsed away and replaced with conditioner. Dipper couldn’t even remember the last time he had used both; even on normal days, he usually washed both his body and hair with regular soap. And that was only when he was out of baby-wipes for a pseudo-bath.

 

         “Your hair is getting so long, pet,” Bill commented while he rinsed the conditioner away. “While I enjoy having something to grab,” his fingers pulled a little harder at Dipper’s hair, wrenching a pleased gasp from the brunet and tugging his head back, “I do find it disappointing that your stars are so hidden.” The demon swept his bangs away to reveal the hidden birthmark, pausing to admire it before kissing each point. “Perhaps another time,” he sighed, reaching around Dipper to grab a washcloth and soap. He lathered the rag up and set about washing every inch of the brunet’s lean body, gentle over Dipper’s face and then scrubbing at his back. Each sweep of the cloth was deliberate, leaving the teen smelling of lavender. He rinsed him with the same thoroughness, cupping his hands and letting the water splash over Dipper’s chest, his thighs, his shoulders. The brunet closed his eyes at the wondrous treatment, opening them when his mouth was claimed in a soft kiss. Hands followed the same path as the cloth, stroking over his body, encouraging him to shudder and lean into them.

 

         Eventually, they parted, and Bill switched the stream of water to the bath spout, turning down the temperature. Once the water reached mid-shin, he coaxed the brunet to sit before stepping out himself. The teen watched him snap his fingers twice, once to dry off and another to redress himself. In only a second, he looked as pristine and kempt as always.

 

         “You looking rather content, pet,” the demon observed with a smirk, strolling over to kneel next to the tub. Dipper nodded, settling against the side to be closer to his partner. “Don’t fall asleep on me now.”

 

         “I won’t, Master,” he sighed. The water was turned off and a hand carded through his hair. Ok, maybe he was fibbing just a _teeny_ bit. Bill’s chuckle suggested he knew, but no further comment was made.

 

         For several minutes, quiet reigned in the bathroom. Dipper could hear Bill breathing, suit rustling as he shifted. He could hear his own breathing, feel it rasp over his dry lips and condense on the old porcelain. The faucet dripped every now and then, the tiny ripples lapping at his skin. Soft lips descended on his shoulders and neck, sucking and kissing more marks onto his body.

 

         “Wait here, pet,” Bill whispered, breaking the stillness when he pulled away. Dipper almost laughed at the command. He was utterly boneless, slumped against the tub, eyes heavy; movement of any sort was out of the question. His master turned away, getting something from the counter. The brunet watched him, smiling a little, twirling a finger over the surface of the water to make ripples.

 

         And then Bill turned back to him, grin sweet and charming.

 

         Dipper’s peace was ripped away like a curtain torn from a window, his heart scrambling into overdrive. His breath caught, each muscle tensing as he shot up from his comfortable slouch.

 

         Bill was holding a straight razor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah this took me way too long to get up.  
> Not sure if it's enough to satisfy the wait, but I hope people enjoy it anyways.

         Dipper’s heart clenched, a burst of adrenaline lighting a fire under every nerve.

 

         “Red, red!” he yelped, flinching back against the tub, sending water sloshing to the floor. The demon froze, eyes wide. Dipper shook his head, staring at the straight razor in desperation and clutching at the bathtub’s rim. “I can’t do pain tonight, Bill, I really can’t.” Tears sprung into his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if they were from guilt from not being able to provide for his master or disappointment that he couldn’t indulge in one of their favorite kinks or plain exhaustion. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just can’t.”

 

         “Oh, no, Pine Tree, no,” his partner agreed. “Of course not. I don’t think you could handle any more pain, kid.” Bill moved closer, eyes questioning. Dipper pried his fingers free from their death grip to meet him partway, trying to quell his trembling. The demon settled next to him, taking his hand, brushing a tiny kiss to his knuckles. “I thought you might like me to take care of that nonsense on your face, considering how shaky you are. I didn’t mean to scare you, kid, I really didn’t.”

 

         “I-I…” Dipper swallowed thickly, still shaking. “You like pain though.”

 

         “Only when I get to cause it, Pine Tree.” Another kiss, this time to his wrist. “And only when you’re up for it.” A third, to his pulse. “Ya know, you’re the only human who gets that privilege. Deciding when and how I get to hurt you.” The demon paused, glancing at the straight razor, held limply in his opposite hand. “It’s up to you, Pine Tree.”

 

         Dipper didn’t answer, chewing the inside of his cheek. It was true he was a little scruffy, the bristly hairs concentrated in patchy batches along his chin and jaw. After years of desperately wanting facial hair, he found the coarse hairs unpleasant and his ability to grow a beard lacking. Shaving with a regular store-bought razor was usually part of his routine, but Bill had a point. His trembling hands maybe have been able to wrangle a mug, but a razor of any sort was out of the question. He’d probably slit his throat.

 

         “I think… it’d be ok,” he sighed, giving a nod. “Just… please, be careful?”

 

         “Of course,” Bill promised, reaching for the can of shaving cream. “Color?” he prompted, mismatched eyes searching Dipper’s brown ones. The brunet offered a small smile.

 

         “Green.” His partner kissed him once more, hardly more than a chaste brush of lips, before leaning away.

 

         “I’m going to put the shaving cream on first, pet.” Dipper almost sighed in relief, his smile growing. Bill hadn’t walked him through things step by step in a long time, not since they were just starting out with the whole pet/master business. It did wonders for the teen’s nerves.

 

         Bill emptied a glob of shaving cream into his bare hand and smoothed the lather over the teen’s skin, coating half his face in fluffy white. It wasn’t until the vague berry smell hit him that he realized his partner had grabbed Mabel’s shaving cream. He scrunched his nose a little when the froth tickled, watching Bill lift the razor again.

 

         “I have you, pet,” the demon soothed. “I’m going to start with your cheek,” he tapped Dipper’s right one, “and work my way to the other. Is that all right?”

 

         “Yes, Master,” the brunet replied, closing his eyes. “Green,” he added, hearing Bill take a breath. There was a low chuckle, and then the demon got to work.

 

         The whisper of the razor was odd. Dipper, usually so focused on getting rid of the unwanted hairs, never paid it any attention, never noticed the way his skin prickled in the aftermath. And he was never so meticulous about it. Bill used the sharp instrument like a brush over canvas, getting every last inch of skin. It every few minutes for Bill to rinse it clean before beginning again, always murmuring where he was going to restart. Dipper couldn’t stifle a twitch when it ghosted down his neck and then to his chin but his partner made a quiet noise, fingers petting over his shoulder, and he relaxed.

 

         “There we are, pet.” The brunet blinked his eyes open at the satisfied voice, peering up at Bill. The demon was inspecting his smooth face, eyes half-lidded as he cupped Dipper’s chin. “Much better, don’t you think?” He murmured an affirmative, a pleased sound escape him when he was kissed. “Let me get a cloth.”

 

         The cool rag made him shiver a little, goosebumps spreading over his sensitive skin. Bill was thorough and gentle, folding the cloth over the side of the tub when he finished washing him.

 

         “Now, pet, I can put this away, or we can try your legs,” he hummed, waving the razor. Dipper brushed his knuckles over his smooth jaws, reveling in the clean feeling.

 

         “I-I’d like that, Master,” he admitted, cheeks rosy. He felt vaguely selfish, confessing to how much he was enjoying the demon’s attention. “If you did my legs too.”

 

         “I’m sure you won’t be the only one who enjoys it, pet.” There was hunger in Bill’s eyes, a patient eagerness Dipper saw when they worked each other up. “But first, let’s take care of these.”

 

         Dipper glanced down when Bill took hold of one of his ankles, confused as to what he meant. The demon cupped his calf, frowning at a series of suction cup bruises wrapped around it. The teen cringed, remembering his unfortunate incident with the cycloptopus a few days back. Ford had smeared it with a pearlescent orange goop and wrapped it to take away the redness and swelling, leaving only livid bruises the color of a ripe eggplant.

 

         His breath hitched at sudden tingling, wrapping around his leg. Bill smiled up at him before leaning brush his lips over his knee.

 

         The demon slid his hands up Dipper’s legs, erasing every bruise he touched. Cuts were peppered with soft kisses; scrapes earned fewer but longer ones. Dipper shuddered at the demon’s ministrations, the brush of power against his body like an affectionate cat: little sandpaper-tongue licks and velvety fur.

 

         “There we are, pet.” Bill pressed a kiss to his ankle, picking up the shaving cream and razor again. “I’m going to start at your knee and work down. Once both are done, I’ll do your thighs. All right?”

 

         “Yes, Master.”

 

         “Color?” Bill prompted, blue and gold eyes trained on his leg. Dipper watched the razor glint, its deadly edge running along his skin but never breaking it. He closed his eyes halfway.

 

         “Green.”

 

         Bill was just as efficient with his legs as he was his face, clearing the rough curls from the teen’s legs in measured sweeps. Dipper opened his eyes again at one point, fascinated, enjoying the gentle touches. A glance at his partner’s face revealed an intensely focused but content expression, mismatched eyes scrutinizing every patch of skin for a missed hair. After a while, the focus faded, replaced with something almost smug.

 

         “There,” Bill hummed, sharpening the razor and returning it to it’s place. “How’s it feel, pet?” Dipper stroked his thighs, lifting his calf from the water to touch it to. The bare skin raced under his fingers, slick with water.

 

         “A little strange,” he confessed. He rubbed his legs together, shivering at the satiny feel. “But good, Master.”

 

         Bill bundled him in a fluffy towel and lifted him out of the tub. The heat had left him a little lightheaded, loose-limbed and relaxed. He clung to the demon, chirping when he was dried with firm scrubs. He closed his eyes when Bill tousled his hair dry, opening them curiously when the drying slowed, then stopped. The towel dropped to the floor, leaving him bare to the room.

 

         Bare to his master.

 

         “You’re so lovely,” Bill purred, a hand falling to his waist, the other to his cheek. “Absolutely perfect like this. Like silk under my hands.” Dipper shivered again as fingers dragged along his face, sliding down his chin to grip his throat. His breath caught as they flexed enough for his breath to stutter. “So soft and vulnerable, pet. Anything could sink its claws into you, rip you into bloody chunks. If someone else were here, I bet they’d choke the life out of you. You wouldn’t even get the chance to scream,” he added in a hot breath, the black of his pupils threatening to engulf his mismatched irises.

 

         “M-Master…” Dipper stuttered. His heart thrilled, as it always did when Bill spoke to him like this. Vaguely threatening but almost sweet… He knew he should run but there were worse monsters than his partner, and he liked this terrifying, unhinged half of Bill more than he cared to admit.

 

         “It’s a good thing you’re with me,” the demon continued. His hand traveled down the brunet’s throat, trailing along his collarbones. The other joined in sliding down his shoulders, the back of his arms, his wrists… They found the small of his back, pressing his naked body against the front of Bill’s clothed one. “Do you know why, pet?”

 

         “Because my Master is kind,” Dipper whispered, staring up into smoldering eyes. They flared with gratification, trained on his every move as he moved closer and stretched up on his toes to murmur directly into his master’s ear. “He is kind and would never harm me unless it was for pleasure. I savor every touch, every caress he bestows on me.” Bill shivered in delight as the human, pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “My Master loves me, and I adore him in return. Everything I am, everything I will be, is his to own. _I_ am his to own.” He closed his eyes and eased back down, pressing his cheek against the demon’s chest to hear his heartbeat and his low purring. “I am his pet, and he is my Master.”

 

         “Excellent.” A kiss was pressed into his birthmark. He closed his eyes to savor it. “Now, let’s finish up and get you into something warm, pet. Then off to your room.” The demon snapped his fingers, a pair of Dipper’s usual pajamas appearing on the counter next to a jar of oil. Bill unscrewed it, filling the air with a delicate, floral smell, and dipped his fingers into it. Dipper hummed as it was slathered over his skin, enhancing the velvety feel of his legs. The demon massaged at some knots in his shoulders, soothing them away, occasionally mouthing at the spots where they ached the worst.

 

         “Arms up,” Bill ordered once he finished, picking up the pajamas. Dipper did as he was told, huffing when the tee shirt was pulled over his head and smoothed over his stomach. “And a sweater. I’d hate for you to catch a chill.” The brunet helped his master tug the knitted fabric into place, ignoring the fact that it probably belonged to his sister. It was a simple design: deep purple with pastel yellow stars. “It suits you, pet.” It was also about two sizes too big, the sleeves covering all but his fingertips, the collar sliding down one shoulder. He could probably tuck his nose into it. He tested the theory and, yep, he could pull it all the way up to his cheekbones. Bill chuckled, helping him step into a pair of boxers.

 

         “My precious, adorable pet,” he purred, sweeping the teen into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the tip of Dipper’s nose, carrying him bridal style. “Now, to bed with you.”

 

         The trip to the teen’s bedroom was a short one, or rather, it would have been if Bill hadn’t made frequent stops to shower him with kisses. Dipper couldn’t bring himself to complain though, wrapping his arms around the demon’s neck, dragging his fingers through thick blonde hair.

 

         Bill held him in one arm when they entered his room, dragging the covers back with the other. The sheets were fresh, Dipper noted, his old ones heaped in the corner. Bill set him down on the mattress and tucked him in, hands sliding over his body. Dipper hummed in appreciation, rolling onto his stomach and nuzzling into his pillow. The sheets rubbed against his bare legs, wringing at murmur out of him at the new sensation. Had his blankets always been so soft? Or was it because he was soft?

 

         He pondered this while his master sat at the edge of his bed, grinning down at him. He blinked and let out a happy noise, worming deeper into the mattress.

 

         “How do you feel, pet?”

 

         “Wonderful, master,” he whispered back. “So wonderful.” The demon chuckled.

 

         “I’m glad.” His grin sharpened, blue eye flaring. At the same time, a hypnotic sort of hum pulsed in the center of Dipper’s brain, rending him limp and pliable. “To business then.”

 

         The demon shifted closer, close enough for the teen to feel the heat of his body. If he hadn’t been so relaxed, so calm under his master’s hands, he would have trembled like a scared rabbit. He gasped a little when he felt rather than heard a low, warning growl, the crackle of magic through the air- reminders of what his partner was, of what he could _do_.

 

         “No more of… of _that,”_ Bill spat, waving a hand at his messy desk. The other splayed over his back, pinning him to the mattress. “You aren’t allowed to do _that_ to yourself again.”

 

         “Yes,” Dipper sighed. The hand pressed harder, unyielding but not uncomfortable.

 

         “Yes what?”

 

         “Yes, Master.” The hand slid down the curve of his spine, palm digging into his back with exquisite pressure.

 

         “It’s near midnight now. Tomorrow, you will wake up at eight, prepare yourself for the day shortly after, and then eat breakfast. You’ll sweep up the shop and restock the shelves before opening but no more. If Fez asks you to work, tell me, and I will take care of it, without harming him. From there, you’ll complete your Calculus, finish your lab report, and write your presentation. Breaks every few hours until lunch, which you will eat. Afterwards, you’ll finish two of your essays. Once that is completed, you and I will go into the forest. The last two essays will be done by dinner. After dinner, you will touch up any else to be finished, bathe, and retreat to your room where _I_ ,” Dipper muffled a gasp when the hand slid lower, squeezing his rear through his shorts, “will more thoroughly punish you for the week’s transgressions. You will sleep and wake once more, and the day is yours to have.” A kiss was pressed to the base of his spine, a second and third creeping up the small of his back. Bill continued to kiss up his body until his lips were right by Dipper’s ear. “Am I,” fangs skimmed the teen’s ear, “understood, pet?”

 

         “Yes, Master Cipher,” he whispered.

 

         “Good boy.” The demon crawled onto the bed with the teen, tucking him close to his side. Dipper hummed with pleasure, snuggling closer while his partner tugged of his gloves with his teeth and set them on the nightstand in deliberate motions. When he turned back, he looked more like himself- a grin twitching his lips, blue and gold eyes bright with mischief.

 

         “Bill, that was…” Dipper shook his head, letting out a breath. “That was _amazing_. I feel like a person again.” He peppered kisses across his partner’s neck and face, tiny ones to convey nothing but sweet affection and quiet joy. “You were awesome. Thank you, thank you so much.”

 

         “You’re welcome,” Bill answered, sounding ever so slightly smug. “You deserved it, kid. Needed it.” He lifted Dipper for a deeper kiss. “But seriously, don’t run yourself into the dirt again. If you feel like you need to, I’ll happily pound you into a mattress instead. It’s much more comfortable and _way_ more fun.”

 

         “I’ll keep it…” Dipper paused to yawn. “Keep it in mind.” He offered once last smile, heavy with sleep. “Thank you again, Bill.”

 

         “Of course, Pine Tree.” The demon kissed his birthmark, his voice laced with power. It wrapped around the teen’s bones, stroked along the threads of his soul until they sang. “Now, dream of the stars and the sky and the moon. Dream of magic and the forest and your home. Dream of me, Pine Tree, and my love for you.” Dipper’s eyes slid shut. “Dream, and find peace.”

 

         “Mmm,” he mumbled, pressing close to his partner. Bill was warm and safe and smelled of sunbaked earth, woodsmoke, and, oddly enough, apples. “L’ve you…”

 

         “Love you too, kid.” A gentle kiss. “Sleep.”

 

         And, relaxed and content for the first time in days, in the arms of his demon lover, Dipper did.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop me a comment. If I get requests, I'll do my best to put something together for ya'll :).  
> I love Gravity Falls to bits (even though it has my feels writhing in agony with every new fan-theory and episode), and I'd love to write more for it, especially stuff people want to see.


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